


Made out of Moonlight

by Flammenkobold



Category: Original Work
Genre: Extra Treat, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Jellyfish, Legends, Sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-08 04:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: The stories go that if you walk along the darkest stretch of the beach at night during a new moon you have the chance of encountering two different omens for your future.If you see the glowing ghost jellyfish floating from the sea through the air, dancing around you, then the next day you will find your true love.If the waves reach far enough along to lap at your feet, all black like ink or old blood, the sea will claim you soon.





	Made out of Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labocat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/gifts).

The stories go that if you walk along the darkest stretch of the beach at night during a new moon you have the chance of encountering two different omens for your future.

If you see the glowing ghost jellyfish floating from the sea through the air, dancing around you, then the next day you will find your true love.

If the waves reach far enough along to lap at your feet, all black like ink or old blood, the sea will claim you soon.

If you ask me, the sea will always claim you here, where everyone’s life depends and revolves around the sea. If you don’t die in it you die on land and then get buried there.

As for love? I saw many get married and rarely for love and as for me I’ve never been in love before and don’t expect to be.

I’ve walked the darkest stretch of the beach at night so many times, since working at the lighthouse. I do not stay there the night, I help the keeper with the cleaning and the cooking for a meager income that’s just enough with the money I make during the day to keep me afloat. I know the darkest stretch of the beach well, the bit where it meets the cliffs. I’ve never encountered anything.

Except, except tonight.

Tonight I watched as the waves ran across the beach further than they should’ve in a clear, stormless winter night. They washed over my shoes, almost lovingly, almost as if they wished to carry me with them; and then I saw a light out of the corner of my eye. Not the blinking light of the lighthouse, but a gentle glow. When I looked, one by one the jellyfish lifted themselves out of the water as if it was nothing. Translucent things and so very delicate as if made out of moonlight.

There were so many of them and none looked alike. Each had a different shape and form and size. But each and every single one emitting a soft light. I stood there and watched in awe, not minding the waves lapping at my feet at all.

I stood there until the lights faded and the wind picked up and I felt the cold. 

That night I did barely sleep, and when I slept I dreamt. Not unpleasant dreams, just unusual ones, full of gentle but cold waves and love.

The next day I wandered around town, wondering which of those people was supposed to be my true love, or if a stranger would arrive that day. But strangers hardly ever came here unannounced and I had known the people all my life, hard-working and hard-faced but not unkind. I never fancied any of them.

By the time I made my way up to the lighthouse it was very late and winter meant the sun would set early. Still I stopped and sat down at the highest point of the cliffs looming over everything.

I watched the sun vanishing into the sea, the day nearly at its end. No sight of my true love yet. And I doubted it was the lighthouse keeper. As I watched the last remnants of the sun playing over the sea, I thought idly to myself, how could I love anything or anyone more than this anyway? 

When I finally got up to continue my way, a stone came loose under my foot. I tripped all the way down to the sea and the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs. Smashed my head right open.

I died there then.

My second to last thought was that the stories were true, if the waves reach far enough along to lap at your feet, all black like ink or old blood, the sea will claim you soon.

My last thought was that I knew now what the jellyfish are made of. 

They’re the souls kept by the sea, those that loved it as much as it did them.


End file.
